


Mama Bear

by Venticelli



Series: Mama [2]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Freak Show
Genre: Childhood, Family, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Other, mother - Freeform, mothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3927952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venticelli/pseuds/Venticelli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam (Twisty) had a less than perfect day at school, so someone decides to drop by to explain the situation to his mother. Of course, no one is going to be happy about someone implying imperfections in their child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mama Bear

Margery looked the stranger in the doorway over a couple of times, having deemed them worthy of her taking a break from her cigarette. Of course, those breaks never lasted long, as her son who sat playing a few feet away could tell you. She took a drag, leaving bright red marks on her cigarette, and to say she looked less than enthused would have been an understatement. She didn’t look like the sort of person anyone would call their mother, her face painted just a little too brightly than what would be considered decent. But there was a protective air about her that made one wish that she was one of the guiding forces in one’s life.

With smoke billowing out from ruby lips, perhaps she’d be a corrupting force as well. Eyes somehow continually alert despite their lidded appearance.

“Let me guess, you’re here to tell me something about Sammy, yes?” she asked, the purple eyeshadow only making it that much more obvious that her eyelids were drooping. Whether that was a result of her disinterest or went along with the dark circles under her eyes was not an answer anyone would be getting any time soon. She managed a laugh, short and rough and lacking in any and all humor. “No one else in the world dresses like school counselors, heavens…" She shook her head and brought her cigarette up to her lips once more but stopped just short of her mouth. For a moment an expression of genuine worry came across her face, but she hadn't the time to acknowledge it, let alone let this stranger in his much too pressed pants to see it. "Look, I know he sometimes gets a bit rowdy. L _ord_  knows the boy doesn’t know his own strength half the damn time, but I also know ya wouldn’t be down here unless a mother complained."

The man at the door tried to speak, but he was silenced before he could even get a word out as Marge waved her hand in his face, nearly burning his nose and her painted nails grazing his skin. Her voice was lowered now as she spoke, layered with spite. "And if one did, and I  _ **know**_ she did, you tell her to come here and talk to me about it face to face. I will not have someone badmouthing my boy behind my back. Thank you _very_ much.”

She said the last bit curtly and slammed the door shut before the confused intruder could even get a single word out. Snuffing out her cigarette in one of the strategically placed ash trays, Marge looked over at her son whose stillness betrayed the fact that he had been listening the whole time. Quietly, she walked over to her son and knelt down beside him, shaking her head as she lifted his chin to see the bruise on his cheek. Red lips almost frowned, but she managed to keep a straight face. Still, her worry aged her even with the mask of makeup, and this time she didn't mind if anyone saw. Her brave little boy, what could she do to protect him in a world she knew to be so unkind? She knew he wasn't a bad kid. She knew it better than anyone else in all of Florida, but she also knew that no one would believe her or him if they tried to explain. No, the only way they were going to make it in this world was fighting, and it looked like her boy was learning that real quick.

Perhaps a bit quicker than she had hoped.

“You made sure you hit them back extra heard, right? Like I told ya to?” she asked, gently rubbing her thumb over the boy’s cheek as she pulled back once more. Sam nodded slowly, and she smiled down at him. “No weak shit. Not if your mama is raising you right, and I sure as hell am raising you right. Now, pick this stuff up,” she replied, gesturing to the toys on the floor. they had since been abandoned in favor of silent eavesdropping, but that matter was neither here nor there. “Dinner will be ready soon.” Carefully, she leaned in and kissed her son’s forehead, all too happy to leave a mark of another kind on his skin.


End file.
